Hugo Project, #7

The Diamond Age, by Neal Stephenson. Winner of the 1996 Hugo.

I'm a big fan of Stephenson's work. It's dense, challenging, and written with a subtle humor that sometimes takes me completely off guard. This one is set in Shanghai and deals mostly with nanotechnology and the use of fairy tales. No Enoch Root in this one, as best as I can tell.

Piers Wonders

why there is an AAUW (American Association of University Women) flyer posted in the men's restroom on the second floor.

Academic Freedom, my arse

of course, an ag school in NW Tennessee is more or less insulated from this kind of stuff, but as a professor who is becoming known for chasing rabbits and (a little) sardonic humor, this scares the s*** out of me.

Preschool update

Some of you may remember our angst a few months ago about The Little Boy's experiences at the day care. Well, we muddled through last semester with him going as little as possible. W did find him a slot at the day-care center run by the university, and yesterday was his first day.

What an amazing difference!

He went in with nary a whimper, evidently had a great day (even took a nap!), and came home singing and laughing. W's joy and relief are wondrous to behold.

I visited when we picked him up yesterday afternoon. It's a nice facility, well-run, attractive, and--important for him--quiet and orderly. Wow!

If you care about free expression

then this should be on your current reading/watching list.

From Lileks's Bleat page:

When the government calls you in to ask what was in your mind when you published something, here’s how you respond.

With apologies to those who find this kind of thing tiresome.

Adventures with Students, Vol. 15

I saw it happen yesterday about ten minutes into my opening of my upper-level 16th century lit class. One student totally checked out. It was a subtle shift in body language, but when I got back in my office I commented to W: "I've got one that will drop either today or tomorrow."

Sure enough: today, 1:49 pm--Drop or Withdrawal Notification

I called it!a

MacBook Air

despite the cheezy name,

WANT

This has the potential of becoming my Major Soapbox

a plan for students & staff to be compelled to sign a code of behavior at Bergen Community College. Bravo to those faculty willing to defy the BCC administration.

This is an important weekend

because it's the NFL divisional playoffs weekend, our last full helping of football before September comes back around. Snow on the ground at Lambeau for the Packers-Seahawks game. Awesome.

You say you want to look like a Bond villain?

well, Brooks Brothers has your look.

Thinking about the way language makes me think

What would happen if I were to take a break from the typical kinds of language I use to describe challenges--struggle, difficulty, painful--and instead force myself (for instance, when I write in my daily journal every morning) to write about challenge or pushing myself or even bring it on?

I recognize that inasmuch as I thought last term was difficult, the main difficulty was in the way I was thinking and reacting, not so much the actual events. In retrospect, I could have saved myself a lot of heartache by being less concerned with the way it all didn't 'feel' exactly right.

So now I'm on my way to being a Pollyanna, right?

3rd Quarter in the BCS Bowl

and it looks like OSU is in dee-eee-eeep trouble. Not saying they'll lose, but their meltdown on LSU's first possession of the half can't inspire confidence.

Life with a Little Boy, v. 6

Here is a list of characters we have been instructed to impersonate over this past week:

Curious George
The Man in the Yellow Hat
Blue (from Blue's Clues)
Magenta (ditto)
"Lightming" McQueen (from Cars)
Sally (from Cars)
'Mater (from Cars)

and he's consistent--no breaking of character!

ACC Basketball

it's going to be the death of me yet

Hugo Project #6

Ringworld, by Larry Niven (1970 Hugo winner)

Unlike the previous items in this project, this is true "hard" science fiction. Interesting aliens too!

It's also a trip reading this book and playing Halo at the same time. The senses of scale are different, naturally, but--ringworlds are ringworlds.

Life with a little boy, v.5

This week, while Piers is not at work, The Little Boy and I have been working on important boy skills:

1. swordfighting with balloon swords
2. kung-fu
3. air guitar

Hugo Project, #5

The Man in the High Castle, by Philip K. Dick (Hugo winner, 1963)

One of the more literary, self-consciously literary sci-fi novels I've read. It even contains a reference to itself in a conversation between three characters about whether alt-history works can rightfully claim the name "science fiction." I've not read a lot of alt-history other than K. S. Harrison's Years of Rice and Salt, but this particular instance of the genre was chilling at first (the Japanese and the Nazis won WWII).

The novel has three mirrored and interrelated subplots, and there's an alt-history novel that figures in each of those subplots. The ending of the novel is "indeterminate," let's say.

This will please some of my friends

and cause others to be grouchy:

Jackson will produce The Hobbit, after all.

Hugo Project #4

Stranger in a Strange Land, by Robert Heinlein (1962 Hugo Winner)

I loved the first half--inventive, and a bit mysterious (i.e., what are these Martians like, exactly? What could happen to a perfectly innocent and perfectly powerful man who doesn't really understand what "man" is?).

Second half gets increasingly dull, mainly because H spends so much time describing "Mike's" quasi-religious adoption of human sexuality.

His skill in writing dialogue is quite enjoyable throughout, however.

Jubal Harshaw, however, is an awesome character. He's the curmudgeon I can only dream of being.

Piers has left the building

grading done, calculating done, posting done.

Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night.

And may you get few grade complaints. heh

Props to Papa

...who came to town yesterday, helped W purchase and install a new range, then left this morning early. 

Piers, put away that sharp object

In addition to grading end-of-term mountains of paper, I am having to endure the constant prattle of an extremely self-satisfied student (evidently graduating in the spring) talking to a professor across the hall. She is speaking glibly of "getting into" grad school at Michigan or Maryland or UNC in a wide variety of disciplines (I've heard poli-sci, ILS, economics, sociology), even applying to Princeton "just for kicks," using several state institutions as "safety-valve" schools where she can slingshot to a better program.

I'm jolted back about a decade, when I was also speaking glibly about "getting in" at an ivy-league school or U of Chicago--and actively resisting the urge to walk over there, sit the young woman down, and thoroughly puncture that balloon-cloud she's riding on (preferably in the calm, slightly weary tones of a John McGowan or James Thompson). I got into school at UNC by Providence--and on this end, I'm humbled and grateful that I even got a second look. Having a swelled head about my own abilities did me no favors.

Sweeet!

My Christmas is complete already!

So I'm reading this book by Frederick Buechner

called Secrets in the Dark, and let me tell you, it has been a long time since I've heard God whispering in my ear like He is through this man's writing. It is food for the soul at a time when (as you've probably noticed) I've really needed it.

Holiday Cheer Update

New oven needed: 1

Meals cooked using toaster oven: 3

Presents wrapped: 3

Christmas bric-a-brac broken by boy: 3

Items on homemade advent calendar for little boy: 6

Days left in semester: 1

Assignments left to grade: 150 (give or take a few)

Rasselas, Chapter 27

He that has much to do will do something wrong, and of that wrong must suffer the consequences; and, if it were possible that he should always act rightly, yet when such numbers are to judge of his conduct, the bad will censure and obstruct him by malevolence, and the good sometimes by mistake.

--Samuel Johnson (1759)

Grinchy Grinch.

I love this song

Sermon Stupidity

Yesterday I had the privilege of sitting in the choir behind a professor from Mid-America Baptist Theological Seminary while he preached on Philippians 4:6-7. His basic message: We should not worry, because worry is a sin. So to keep from the sin of worry, one should first remember that God said not to, and then one should pray using the three modes listed in the verse and making sure of course that you're praying God's will. That way, we avoid missing out on salvation ("there are some people in Hell who are there because they couldn't respond to the Word because they were worried about a roast burning at home"), and we avoid the worst damage a Christian can do to the Church's witness (his exact words).

This is a school of preaching that makes one wonder if the preacher has actually lived with human beings, or understands that there is more than one mode in Scripture than command, or is to dense to understand that telling a congregation that they could end up in Hell for worrying is hardly the way to encourage them not to worry!

I could go on, but suffice it to say that it was undoubtedly the worst sermon I've sat through in years. W's comment: and this is a man teaching others at a seminary. Geez.

Yay for MB

. . . who's going to be a mommy in May of next year. K has a new job, her takeover of NCSU continues apace, and now a little one! What a year! Needless to say, we here in West Tennessee approve mightily of little ones. Health and happiness to all three!

Grinchy Claus

Help me out. It's a sunny day here in West Tennessee, and W wants us to go get a Fraser Fir to set up and decorate this evening.

I want to go home and climb into bed and emerge only to watch Tennessee get crushed on Saturday (sorry, Buzzrd & Hammie, as is your case with LSU, my hatred of UT knows no bounds).

Herein we have a problem. Tree decorating takes time and a good amount of effort on my part, and this year we have a Little Boy who knows enough to be really thrilled by the whole process. It needs to be done right, by which I mean with enjoyment and enthusiasm on my part. I can't seem to muster the desire.

Why should this season mean that all my energy is poured out in the Andy Holt Humanities building, with only the dregs left to carry home to my family?

UPDATE, 9:00 pm:
Well, we did get a tree and put it up and put lights on it and got about a third of the way through the decorating--Little Boy was having a blast--when we heard a fizz and a pop and saw a tiny flame. Nothing will 're-grinch' your day like having to take all the ornaments and all the lights back off the tree before bedtime.

Shades of 1989

. . . a different woman president this time.

Adventures with Students, Vol. 14

Not my student, thank goodness. I'm reading senior theses from SU, my alma mater, and in an analysis of Paradise Lost, I read this line:

Sin not only existed from the beginning, but it is what gives God purpose and meaning.

Good luck proving that one.

How do you go in & teach

when the last thing you confront before you walk in a room is a tearful student sobbing that she's going to lose her mom to cancer within the year?

Piers breaks blog silence to link to cat video

You have to watch both--the top one first.

link.

I like green.

John Deere Green. The men from Lowe's dropped it off yesterday morning.

Fiddler on the Roof at Bethel College

So we went to McKenzie last night to see my brother's drama group perform Fiddler on the Roof. It was a change of pace to a certain extent--most of the other productions we've seen down there have been more comedic in tone. This marks, I guess, his fourth production in a year and a half of work with the Renaissance program down there.

I find it hard to express how much I admire the work he's doing. With a cramped space, scant institutional support (indeed, he has been met with extraordinary hostility by the college faculty), and a really small recruiting pool, he's putting on productions that appeal to a broad community of people. And he really has some fine students: there were four or five students, including the actors playing Tevye, Hodel, Perchik, and Motel, that stood out and could really compete for roles on any college campus. Congratulations, brother.

My dad was up from Atlanta for the production, which made The Little Boy happy; they had a huge time yesterday.

Hugo Project #3

Walter Miller's A Canticle for Leibowitz. (1961 Hugo winner)

An erudite, humane novel. I really enjoyed this one for a couple of reasons. First, there is Miller's knowledgeable and relatively sympathetic rendering of the Catholic Church. The church in this book isn't perfect, but it certainly isn't the typical sinister cabal you see in many texts. Clearly, Miller knows whereof he writes.

Second, I enjoyed cyclical structure of the story where he takes us from a bleak postapocalyptic dark age to a new Renaissance to yet another blossoming of technology and its end in a second nuclear holocaust. It's a bleak ending in many ways, but it's also honest. And it keeps its own scope relatively narrow, i.e., the world of the monastery and its interactions with the outside world.

I was going to write that the whole nuclear holocaust scenario was clearly a Cold War concern that may seem a bit dated to us, but Fukuyama's "end of history" hasn't turned out as comfy-warm as we would like. Maybe it's becoming timely again. Powerful stuff.

Article on George Herbert

Studies in Philology.

2010.

15 readers.

yeeeehaw!

Pig Pickin Pics

apologies for the relatively gruesome shot worthy of Lord of the Flies. But hey, we were cooking a whole pig, after all. Thanks to my brother Dave, the artist, for most of the shots. More to come!

Pig Pickin

Home again

We've gathered in the sails for a while, resting at anchor.

Got some work to do on the ol' bark--

isp down at home, so updates may be sporadic for a few days

Springfield, Ohio . . .

. . . Renaissance Prose Conference.

Martin Marprelate
Jan Comenius
John Milton
Mary, Queen of Scots
Giovanni Boccaccio
Marguerite de Navarre
Christine de Pizan
John Donne
C. S. Lewis.

Heady company, to be sure.

Adventures with Students, Vol. 13

You know what really bites? Is when you have a student you've trusted, worked with, gone to bat for--a student you have seen as possessing great potential--just completely abuses your trust and goes right off the deep end.

I guess it was going to happen sooner or later. I'm pretty disappointed.

Why, hello, Mr. Orwell. Meet . . .

. . . the University of Delaware.

Chromosome Pair of the Day

XY

Hugo Project #2

The Big Time, by Fritz Leiber (Hugo winner, 1958).

A surpassingly strange book, one that reads more like closet drama than a novel. It relies heavily on a flighty female narrator. Leiber is good at writing in this voice, which makes it almost impossible to read. It also, while inventive, takes place in a space I never could define. I didn't make it to the end.

Kiss of Death

for the Heels. If they end up on the cover of SI, they're absolutely doomed.

Adventures with Students, Vol. 12

You just never know what to expect. I read today a comment in response to Jonson's Cary-Morison Ode (we covered it in class yesterday . . . it's a poem on friendship):

Then we went over the poem about friendship and how a short life can sometimes be better than a long one. We learned the fact that what is done during one's life means the most. And this poem really hit me because my Dad passed away right before school started and I saw a lot of these good things talked about in the poem in my Dad's life. It just helped me to remember that even though he lived a short life, it was a good one.

Friday Cat break

Simon is crazy, but not like this.

Adventures With Students, Vol. 11

You learn the most interesting things about yourself from student gossip.

Today, I learned that I've been called "The Shakespeare Nazi" by a student who recently dropped the Shakespeare class. Godwin's Law aside, what the heck is that all about?

Am I supposed to take that as a mark of honor?

Pig Pickin Update

Success! Beautiful weather, homemade sauce came out pretty well, 90 guests, plenty of food.

We were especially thrilled that R&S came down from Chicago for the big event, and that both sets of grandparents could be here.

Pictures to follow (we've been having trouble with our ISP)--

Ohhhh yeaaaahh

GH III for Mac.

(insert guttural Axl Rose scream here)

Pig Pickin Countdown

Two days

Better start making that NC-style barbecue sauce

Don't worry. We'll have the ketchupy stuff too

Pig Pickin Update

Grass mowed (mown??).
Weeds whacked.
Pits built.
Oinker ordered.
Windows washed.
Edges edged.

Four Days.

Adventures With Students, Vol. 10

I just learned through the grapevine that I'm apparently quitting before next term. Somebody should inform me of these life-changing decisions I'm making before I start requesting courses for future semesters.

Pig Pickin Countdown

6 days.

Here Comes Car'lina 'lina

Late Night With Roy is tonight!

Which means I'll be in a tizzy about twice a week from November through March.

And this is why I never voted for Mike Easley

not that it made any difference, but still.

An item in today's TMQ takes on State 'education' lotteries:

this important story in Sunday's New York Times details how the supposed virtue of state-run gambling lotteries -- payments for public education -- increasingly is a swindle. State-run lotteries took in $56 billion in 2006, the paper reports, but only $17 billion of that amount actually went to the official purpose, support of education. The balance, 70 percent of receipts, was used for prizes and administrative expenses. If a charity spent only 30 percent of its proceeds on charitable works, the managers would soon be in jail. Yet state-run lotteries devote only a third to education and the legislatures of the 42 states plus the District of Columbia that sponsor gambling do nothing.

But it's for the chiiiiiiiiiillllllllldrrrrrrrrrrehhhhhhhhhhhhhnnnnnnn. I call BS on that.

"Free Expression Tunnel" No longer Free

at NC State.

Not that I have a particular love for that institution, but really..."free expression tunnel"? eh? laa-aaa-aaame. And then to start policing what's written? double lame. As if university bureaucrats needed any more ways to look like asses.

New Rings on fingers

I'm bemused to see not one, not two, but three of the young women in my first-year composition class sporting engagement rings this week. How in the world does one get engaged to be married in September or October of one's first year at college?

My Parents' Church in the NYT, of all places

The World Comes to Georgia . . . featuring Clarkston International Bible Church!

And I note a conspicuously (surprisingly!) positive nod to evangelical churches generally:

The transformation of what was long known as the Clarkston Baptist Church speaks to a broader change among other American churches. Many evangelical Christians who have long believed in spreading their religion in faraway lands have found that immigrants offer an opportunity for church work within one’s own community. And many immigrants and refugees are drawn by the warm welcome they get from the parishioners, which can stand in stark contrast to the more competitive and alienating nature of workaday America.

Indeed, evangelical churches have begun to stand out as rare centers of ethnic mixing in a country that researchers say has become more culturally fragmented, in part because of immigration.

A recent study by the Harvard political scientist Robert D. Putnam underscored the practical complications of diversity. In interviews with 30,000 Americans, the study found that residents of more diverse communities “tend to withdraw from collective life,” voting less and volunteering less than those in more homogeneous communities.

The study noted a conspicuous exception.

“In many large evangelical congregations,” the researchers wrote, “the participants constituted the largest thoroughly integrated gatherings we have ever witnessed.”

Not that the notice of the NYT matters, really, but it's nice to get some credit. That's my mom's sunday school class in the small picture on the first page, btw. In the email she wrote to me, she sums it up:

But this one thing is a work of God. We are honored that He chose us to be a part of this unusual body of Christ.

I've had questions about that movie . . .

. . . Beowulf. Students want extra credit or a field trip to see it. Well, I was reluctant to do that before, and after seeing the trailer just now, I'm glad my instinct was correct.

Adventures with Students 9

This is a new one for me. I've got a student in one of my composition classes that has all the signs of being from an extremely conservative background: the long hair, the long skirts, and essays asserting in no uncertain terms the absolute authority of Scripture along with a moral philosophy along the lines of: "there is right, there is wrong, and nothing in between."

Well, I'm in a funny position. I've been going to Baptist churches much longer than she's been going to church, and I'm frankly pretty orthodox in my theology and theodicy and morality, etc. I am not unsympathetic to a biblical worldview, so I want her to understand that my criticism of her work is not because I'm "of the devil's party." But this is an academic class, and part of my job is to teach critical thinking, whether theist or atheist, Christian or Buddhist in orientation.

But then we have a conversation like the one we did today. She had written in her paper a comment about the Fall of Adam in the Garden of Eden. I, innocently, wrote "& Eve?" above her sentence. After class, she comes to me asking about the Eve comment. She says (and I'm trying to repeat it as best I can from memory):

But Eve didn't sin; she was deceived. Adam is the one who sinned. The sin nature comes from Adam.

I stammered out an assurance that the comment was more a moment of curiosity on my part as to why Eve wasn't mentioned, that it didn't affect the grade on the paper. I then stammered out something like, "well, if you'll look at the Genesis account, it seems that Eve makes a choice to eat of the fruit just as Adam does." I don't know who I was expecting to convince with that statement. She certainly wasn't impressed.

For added irony: in this same class is a fairly aggressive atheist/agnostic who, after we read a portion from 1 Samuel for a discussion about the foundations of monarchy, asked if "we were supposed to act like this is true, or what?"

Eight years at Carolina, and this stuff never came up even once. In my third year at this institution, situated (just ask members of the Equity and Diversity Advisory Committee!!) in a "moralistic, blinkered, intolerant, conservative" environment, I'm confronting questions about the reliability and veracity of Scripture, and its place in academic discussion, at the very same time as I'm fielding questions about whether or not Eve's encounter with the Serpent absolves her of sin, and whether a "sin nature" is carried with the "Y" chromosome. Yow.

Another LOLcat

I know, I know, but this picture is hilarious.

go look.

How to Bake an Equity and Diversity Council Meeting

1. Take three parts sanctimony

2. Add one part dark hints about "conservative people"

3. Add two liters of personal testimony, preferably from someone "not from the South"

4. Stir these ingredients with five heaping shovels of vague talk about "issues," and "doing the right thing" and "diversity" and "problems" Important: Make no specific remarks about anything identifiable or observable in the real world.

5. Garnish with a sprig of bureaucratic language and recognition that University policy is set by suits in Knoxville, so the entire proceeding is a joke.

Because I can't use Star Trek jokes in class anymore:

Khaaaaaaaan!

I needed a laugh today

October 3 is an important day

Happy Birthday to Weslee! The Little Boy and I are glad she was born!

Papa has directed his last anthem

We just returned from his final worship service as music minister at First Baptist Church, Nashville.

Today I submitted . . .

. . . my proposal for an NEH Summer Stipend, which will amount to $6K, and provide support for my current research on the Elizabethan Church. It's a long shot, but it sure doesn't hurt to ask; if I get it, I'll be able to afford a bit of research at the Folger this coming summer.

Adventures with Students, Vol. 8

or, "The Disgruntled Summer Term Student"

Yesterday I was alerted by one of my students to the following "cratering" review of my early british literature survey on the infamous Ratemyprofessors.com:

He's a horrible teacher as far as explaining his assignments and papers. He uses the textbook EVERYDAY so if you're on of those students that hate buying books, dont take his class!!

Life with a little boy, v. 3

The evidence is in--he is an Edwards:






He'll sleep anywhere!

Hugo Project #1

I've taken on a little project for my trashy reading: I'm going to try to read through the list of Hugo-Award Winners. That way, I feed my sci-fi habit and at the same time can convince myself that I'm not reading absolute dreck.

So, I just finished Alfred Bester's The Demolished Man, winner of the 1953 Hugo (the first one)

Verdict: Better than I anticipated. Some science fiction doesn't wear very well, becoming quaint or silly. In this case, I was surprised that the focus of the "science" part was psychology and Freudian psychoanalysis. It's based on the idea that there is a group of people (called espers) that can read minds at different levels. Bester uses this setup to write a futuristic detective story about a murder committed in an era when murder is almost literally unthinkable. Couple of strong characters--the perp and the detective--and an interesting conceptual take on 'talking' between minds, without words.

Uh Oh: Travel between planets and moons seems to be instantaneous--maybe Bester was better at psychology than astronomy. Also, the Freudian stuff is hard to take seriously.

To Virginia

We're making the annual pilgrimage to Wise, Virginia so I can attend the Medieval-Renaissance Conference up there. This will be something like my 5th or 6th year in a row--I've found it to be a much-needed boost every year. Bonus: we get to visit J and W Adrian!

How to break a daddy's heart

The Little Boy has been a challenge recently, no doubt. Every parent we talk to concurs that a three-year-old, though he doesn't have the mellifluous designation of "terrible two," really deserves the appellation more. It's just him trying out his will and his authority, seeing how far he can go before meeting opposition. There's been a lot of sending him back to his room.

But last night and this morning, he showed me something.

I'm in the midst of an extraordinarily busy period, with multiple essays due from my end to various people. I've been bringing a lot of work home with me, and that's after being in the office all day. Last night, I was finishing a bunch of papers and working on this weekend's talk, so I cloistered myself in the spare room, hunched over stacks and stacks. I did go out to sit with W for a few minutes, since we don't get many quiet moments together. Went back and did more work until bedtime. When I went in to check on the Little Boy, he wasn't in his bed, or under his bed, or on the floor, or in his closet, or in our bed, or in our closet (all places we've found him sleeping). Where was he? In the spare room, curled up in a pile of pillows on the floor, with a book nearby (the one I had read to him before I turned off the light). He had come in there and fallen asleep, and I hadn't noticed.

This morning, after reading him a book or two, he said he wanted to wrestle. Well, that's part of the morning routine: boy time before mom is ready to take over. When we got down on the floor, though, and I picked him up to mess with him, he went limp and just looked in my face. He didn't say a word, didn't even make a face (!), but just curled up in my arms. It was at that moment that I realized why he likes wrestling so much (hint: it doesn't have to do with the wrestling).

Well played, little boy.

The Little Boy now has a cousin

Daniel Tucker Edwards. A beautiful baby boy, born yesterday morning. We here at Luigi's Mansion are thrilled for Nate & Corri! W has already been cooing at pictures.

Adventures with Students, Vol. 7

Is this a compliment?

Heard after class: "This class reminds me of Zelda!"

mmmmmkay, then.

Glad they're paying attention to important stuff.

Prisons Purging Books on Faith. (NYT)

What the hell, excuse my language and no pun intended, do they expect to achieve, other than looking like fools?

Requiescat in Pace

Madeline L'Engle. It's been a long time since I read one of her books, but they've stuck with me--I still remember the first time I read A Wrinkle in Time. It hit me like a thunderbolt.

Life with a Little Boy, v. 2

Hey, this slideshow thing is fun! Let's try it again!

Below, pictures from A Day Out With Thomas:

"Life With a Toddler" now "Life with a Little Boy"

Click below for a brief slideshow.

JDH Summer 07

"Yesterday, while you were out. . . "

We had our annual University and College Faculty Meetings yesterday--I was present for the former, but left before the latter began because, well, let's just say I had a little fuzz-related problem to clear up.

While conspicuously absent from the meeting, I received an award from the College of Humanities and Fine Arts:

Outstanding Junior Faculty Member of the Year

Naturally, I was not there to accept the plaque. Got it on my wall now, though! I did get the "matter" dismissed as well.

"You'll get more of these"

When I got the skin cancer removed from my face a couple of years ago, the dermatologist said, "ooh, you're young to be getting these. . . you'll get more of them."

And sure enough! I have to have a basal cell carcinoma removed from my scalp in a week. Yeee heeew!

Adventures with Faculty, Vol. 3

Yesterday, during our department meeting, we had a "Come to Jesus" about grade inflation. Our department chair had been looking at numbers and reading some papers that didn't seem to match up with gpa figures, etc. So we had an exercise.

The dreaded grading exercise.

Shades of Grad School! Well, I'm game--it's worth reminding ourselves of the nature of our work, of the responsibility we have to give proper feedback, and so on. As the exercise wore on, though, I began to wonder about its usefulness:

First, grading in a controlled setting where the outcome is hypothetical has no relation to the work we actually do, where we have certain pedagogical goals for the grades we assign, where we have the long view, where we have to look these students in the eye and, let's face it, do course evaluations and have our names up on ratemyprofessor. What I put on a hypothetical paper in an exercise has no consequence or outcome.

Second, particularly in a case where one has a wide range of professorial generations present, these exercises become muddled by instructors declaiming loudly the reason for their oh-so-pure standards:

• "I gave it an F! Because the sentence structure could have been better!"
• "Oh, horrors! This student totally misread this passage from Blake's 'Infant Sorrow'! You know, when I have taught this poem, I've made sure to . . . ."
• "This student used 'consequently!' Clearly, that's a D! At best!"
• "The first thing I do when I start a class is tell the students that they must not ever use the first person pronoun!"

You may think that I exaggerate, but I don't. Perhaps a grading exercise is useful when it allows a veteran teacher to orate for a while, reminding us "junior" faculty of a time when Standards were Standards, by George!

I think I was pretty much grouchy and stone-faced for the whole six hours yesterday. I know, you're all amazed that such a thing could happen.

Apreso Classroom

Well, at our department meeting yesterday, we discovered that one of our department's classrooms has been designated an "Apreso Classroom"--a system that automatically records classroom activity. In theory, this makes lecture material available over a system like Blackboard so students can review or catch up.

Woweee! Being recorded automatically when we start a class! And here's the thing--this is a big-time instructional issue, a big time privacy issue, and evidently an issue that no one thought to consult our department about. It has just appeared. I don't know about the rest of my teaching friends, but I'm not at all comfortable with the idea of my classes being automatically recorded. I'm also not at all comfortable with the idea that a change like this can be made with literally zero faculty input, at least no faculty input that any of my colleagues know anything about.

(feel free to make your own "Big Brother" / Patriot Act / NSA / J.J. Abrams jokes)

HP 7

I read the last four chapters to W last night, so we now know that Dumbledore cast down the Balrog, Harry and Hermione took the ship from the Grey Havens, and Hagrid remained the keeper of the Golden Compass. My favorite part was when Ron met Peter, Edmund and Lucy after stepping through the door of the stable.

Seriously, we're done. I think we both felt a bit of loss--there's not any more to look forward to, except the moment when our children discover the books. Hey, that's not so bad!

Without providing details, I will say: I felt most vindicated re: Severus Snape. I didn't foresee the details, but I did more or less peg his place in the story correctly. W and I both really enjoyed the fact that little details throughout this last book referred backward through the previous six--even to Year One.

All Hail the Pigskin

I'm sitting in my chair, watching Dallas play Indianapolis. Praise the Lord, the long walk through the Valley of the Shadow of Baseball is over, and we can finally watch a sport worth watching! A sport in which every game is an event!

And yes, I know, some of you college football snobs will sniff that it's "only" the NFL--but hey, at least the NFL has, you know, a playoff system.

FOOOOOOOOOTBAAAAAAAAALLLLLLLLL!

Shades of Allen Hill

Every once in a while, I come out with a phrase that sounds so much like my father that W and I both stop and say, at the same time, "that's an Allen Hill!"

The most recent one I've been blurting out without thinking about it:

"Golly Moses!"

(the 'golly'--pronounced 'gaaaa-leeee' is the foundational Allen Hillism; various secondary epithets get added as necessary). Those of you who know will laugh; those of you who don't will wonder why the heck I bothered to post this. Ah, well.

Well, I guess I do have One Bit Of News

Due date: March 16.

Sorry

In the midst of major revisions to an article, hoping to get it placed. Plus, it's hot. Oppressively hot. Will-sapping, energy-draining hot. Not much to say for a few days yet.

biking update: 26 miles into the week

I'm getting good. I changed a tire yesterday. Went out this morning at 6:20 or so. 35 minutes into the ride . . .

. . . lost the other tire. Well, didn't lose it as much as have it punctured and go flat.

That means, if you're counting, I'm 2 for 2 this week on getting flats and having to call W to shoehorn the (not so) Little Boy into the car to come rescue me.

Maybe I'll take a different route on Saturday morning.

Book Question for my Bookish pals

Children of Hurin?

Yes?

No?

Anyone?

Good news from Chapel Hill

M Bostrom, good friend and gossip source, has landed a sweet job at NC State. Among other things, it's a pay increase and a way out from under a relatively unpleasant boss. It's also a way to ensure that she doesn't ever have to teach composition again, unless she just wants to.

This puts her on the 'administrative' track in academia, and from close experience I know that she'll be great. She might even pick up that great line From the Master:

It's in your contract.

Weekend report

W and I visited Blakbuzzard and Hambone this past weekend; it's our second trip up to Chicago since we moved. The Little Boy got to stay with Uncle B and Aunt R, and we're thankful they had such a good time while we were gone.

It's hard to know how to describe how good a visit it was. We did some neat stuff: Waited up on Friday night for the Harry Potter book, celebrated the Buzzard's Birthday, played Guitar Hero II, ate deep-dish pizza at Giordano's, went to a late movie on Saturday night, ate cobbler and ice-cream for breakfast. I browsed their bookshelves, we told stories back and forth about old days in Chapel Hill and about what's happened in our lives recently, we played with the kitties. And enjoyed the peacefulness of their flat.

One of the greatest blessings we've had over the past decade is to have had these two as friends, and it's so nice to know that distance doesn't necessarily diminish love.

Thanks, you two, from the bottom of our hearts.

Maybe a big breakthrough

from an email from my youngest brother:

By the way, for those of you who don't know, I was contacted the other day by an "art dealer" who found me through my website. He works for an online art dealer called Art Exchange which markets art to high end buyers (hotels, publishers, etc.). They take presentations and booths to big art expos and fairs to develop contacts, and they have several working contracts such as an art selection deal with the group choosing the art for the Trump Collection (yes Donald Trump). They work with something like 3000 artists, and the average income for their artists is $110,000 a year. Pretty impressive.

Well, this guy saw my violinist painting, and he said that they would really like to have that painting at the upcoming Las Vegas Art Expo. In fact, he was extremely complementary, and he said that my painting would easily be the best painting they would bring. He said "It's an attention grabber. Our other artists will do better because that painting will draw people in to the booth."

Now, I have to pay them just like I would any agent, but they only take 10% commission, and my work would be getting incredible exposure. So all that is to say that with Mom and Dad's help (insert "thank you" to parental units here) I've worked a deal with them that will include six of my pieces in their marketing slideshow, which is the main thing everyone looks at during the expo. They have it going nonstop in the booth, and they take it to meetings and presentations with buyers. In addition, I will have space for 20 images on their website, a 90 day feature spot on the home page, and a continued relationship with them for future events. So with a little investment, hopefully this will pay off. I (We) can't afford how much it would cost for me and my work to physically be at the show because of the enormous cost of framing, shipping, plane ticket, etc., but hopefully having my work in the marketing material will pay off.

The show is Sept 27-29, so please be in prayer about it for me. Even if I get just one good contact, it will be worth it. Also, pray that this will motivate me to paint and remember why I love it so much.

Adventures with Faculty, Vol. 2

I had a political science professor stop by the other day to ask about one of his students who happens to be taking the composition class this term. She's doing fine.

He then asked me if I'd read the Kabbala. I did a double-take, whereupon he pronounced that it was "pretty good, but it'll mess with your mind." Let's see: fabled Jewish mystical/occult text. Yep, that'll mess with your mind alright.

On the other hand,

There is peace to be found, if you know where to look:

Live Earth

Umm, isn't it just a bit strange to be holding massive rock concerts, which will necessarily involve enormous power and travel expenditures, not to mention pollution, for the sake of an environmental cause? Roger Daltrey said "bollocks" to that, and I'm feeling like I'm with him.

It reminds me of those idiotic NBC spots where celebrities like George Lopez explain to us the finer points of parenting. "Aha! I'd never thought of 'hugging, not slugging' my child, but since a TV comedian says I should try it out, I'll give it a shot!" Why should I give a rotten *@&#$%^ what Keith Urban says about, well, anything?

It's almost as if--call me crazy--these people, like the Prius owners featured in the NYT recently, are all about ostentatious displays of their piety. Now let's see if I can remember any teachings about showing off one's religiousity . . . hmmmm. . . I'll get back to you on that one. But really, it's for a good cause. There's no need for this misanthropic skepticism, is there?

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